


See How Deep The Bullet Lies

by terryh_nyan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Language, M/M, Songfic, What if?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryh_nyan/pseuds/terryh_nyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>DAVESPRITE: lets go for a walk in lofaf she said<br/>DAVESPRITE: itll be fun she said</em><br/>Two young men sit in a cave.<br/>(In which hypothermia clichés happen, tickle-offs take place, interesting discoveries about having a bird nature are made, and things take turns Davesprite just can't afford.<br/>The thing with John is, he never fucking understands).</p>
            </blockquote>





	See How Deep The Bullet Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raxilia_running](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raxilia_running/gifts).



> First of all: I'm sorry. It'll make sense later.  
> Alright, so, still not native, I think in this fic it'll be more clear than ever. I got no chance of having it beta'd by any native speakers, so, for any mistakes you'll spot, sorry in advance too. A toffee to whoever will be so kind to point them out.  
> I don't really know if it's technically a song-fic, being there just one strophe at the beginning and one at the end, but still. Also, a bit of context: this fic takes place after [S] Cascade, let's say, about two years. As much as I love Davesprite/Jade, because of reasons, in this What If they are just really good friends. Also, Davesprite's wing is still healing.  
> I know some things may be frowned upon. There is a sequel planned that I hope will resolve all of the question marks I already see hanging over your heads.  
> To raxilia_running, because she reassured me this thing was worth posting. That's also who you should take your complaints to. I am basically shifting all the blame.  
> Alright, stole enough of your time already. I hope you like it! And if not, I did try, believe me.

_You don't want to hurt me,_   
_But see how deep the bullet lies._   
_Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder._   
_There is thunder in our hearts, baby._   
_So much hate for the ones we love…_   
_Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_

 

[Show Cavelog] 

  
DAVESPRITE: lets go for a walk in lofaf she said  
DAVESPRITE: itll be fun she said  
DAVESPRITE: why wouldnt it be  
DAVESPRITE: absolutely no fucking reason  
DAVESPRITE: its not like youre going to go full on terminadog on jaspersprite and leave us to freeze to fucking death  
DAVESPRITE: why would you ever do that its just bonkers right  
DAVESPRITE: lets just go shall we  
DAVESPRITE: lets just go live our share of crappy movies hypothermia cliches  
DAVESPRITE: all we need now is the expendable black guy who doesnt make it to the end  
JOHN: are you going to start rapping about this?  
DAVESPRITE: no way man  
DAVESPRITE: beats so sick would give you one hell of a cold  
DAVESPRITE: imma lay low just for your wellbeing  
JOHN: that's so c-c-considerate of you.  
 

Two young men sit in a cave.

It so happens that, today, nothing was intended to go as it went. It was supposed to be a nice walk between friends, perhaps with some nice frog catching, and a picnic too. There had been food – baked goods mostly, so you don’t think John’s really missing it, to be perfectly honest – which was now scattered in the snow, while Jade was, quite literally, in the wind.

Then, right in the moment when the average character would think, as you did, “can this get any worse?”, night fell, and everything started getting not only worse, but colder. You’re not sure how night can fall on a sunless planet. You suppose some douchebag upstairs just switched off the lights. Whatever.

Point being, John had begun shivering, rubbing his stupidly naked arms with his stupidly frozen hands, and there hadn’t been much choice but to look for shelter. A cave being seriously poor shelter, but Jade’s house was on the other side of the planet and your wing still wasn’t exactly fit for flight, so it would’ve had to do.

A very small cave you found, which seemed most suitable, and, long story short, you are now sitting across each other at the very bottom of the place, sassing the living fuck out of each other.

For life is short and full of chances.

And, mostly, just for kicks.

JOHN: man, i wonder where she is.  
DAVESPRITE: onto the fucking pink panthers throat where else  
JOHN: yeah. i m-mean, i know it's not really her fault.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah she really cant help it  
DAVESPRITE: when her dog senses tingle theres like zero things you can do  
JOHN: still... i wish she could've left us somewhere warmer?  
JOHN: like her house. or any other planet for the matter.  
JOHN: i didn't really dress for the occ-c-casion either.  
DAVESPRITE: haha no dude thats just you being a huge baby  
DAVESPRITE: the white walkers could show up and you still wouldnt care if winter was coming  
DAVESPRITE: youd still keep the damn windy outfit on  
DAVESPRITE: youll probably be wearing the damn thing at your own wedding or something  
JOHN: oh, shut up!  
JOHN: you're just jealous because it's so sweet.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah you figured it out im dead jealous you have a hood that makes you fly  
DAVESPRITE: what could it possibly feel like i wonder  
DAVESPRITE: i really cant imagine  
JOHN: ok, ok, i get it, mr davecrow sassywings.  
JOHN: you made your point, you can fly.  
JOHN: …jeez, did the t-temperature just drop?  
DAVESPRITE: i dont know did you make a joke

John is feeling particularly grumpy, you think. Well, not that you can blame him. He’s been trembling in his corner like jello for, like, an hour: even having blocked out the wind doesn’t seem to have brought him that much relief. Of course, he could’ve moved closer for warmth anytime; so far, though, he hasn’t. Not of a single inch. You kind of understand that too, so you doesn’t press. Besides, it might even be a good sign. Meaning it’s not that bad yet.

But it surely does suck. It sucks and there’s no way around it. The cold, the stillness, especially for one as restless as John, it all must suck so majestically it might as well start wearing a crown.

You only wish he’d been stuck with better company. You bet that would’ve made it more bearable, being able to talk to someone he doesn’t just barely tolerate.

On the other hand, it was never that hard to take John’s mind off things.

JOHN: ha. ha. ha.  
JOHN: hilarious, dave.  
JOHN: hold me, i'm about to cough out my lungs from laughter.  
DAVESPRITE: no but seriously are you freezing that much  
JOHN: what do you think?  
JOHN: there's, like, -20 degrees and only in here.  
JOHN: man, it's like you don't even feel this cold.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah about that  
DAVESPRITE: i dont  
JOHN: what?  
DAVESPRITE: perks of being a sprite i guess  
DAVESPRITE: cant feel hot cant feel cold  
DAVESPRITE: im always on default spring temperature or something like that  
JOHN: then why the hell were you being so cranky to begin with?  
DAVESPRITE: idk  
DAVESPRITE: egbert related empathy i guess  
JOHN: yeah right.  
JOHN: no need to act all tough, dave, you can say you're cold, we're in a judgement-free zone.  
JOHN: also blanket-free, which is a shame.  
DAVESPRITE: ok then skeptijohn derpbert  
DAVESPRITE: see it for yourself

John takes a few instants before reaching out to touch the hand you stretched. His expression goes from “stop fucking with me Strider” to “holy flipping mother of Christ” in a matter of moments, which is something. Something more than you would’ve expected, actually.

He barely brushes the back of your hand with his knuckles, the way you’d do to check one’s forehead for a sign of fever, but that’s all it takes. For him to pull back with a stupidly amazed expression on his face, and for you to start worrying pretty seriously, because _fucking hell under siege_ , his hand feels like _ice_. 

JOHN: whoa.  
JOHN: that's not spring temperature, dave. that's, like, july and august combined in a massive human-bird heater.  
DAVESPRITE: what  
DAVESPRITE: really  
JOHN: yeah, really!  
JOHN: i can't believe i was sitting right next to you and i didn't notice.  
JOHN: how cold is it even out there, then?  
DAVESPRITE: why dont we worry about in there first  
DAVESPRITE: like about how youre legit stone cold  
JOHN: wait, i thought you couldn’t feel temperatures.  
JOHN: are you fucking with me, strider?  
DAVESPRITE: dude you werent listening  
DAVESPRITE: of course i can still burn myself with coffee and shit  
DAVESPRITE: i just have air conditioning privileges  
JOHN: weird.  
JOHN: still, it must be freaking day-after-tomorrow outside.  
JOHN: man, i hope jade’s okay.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah  
DAVESPRITE: i mean i guess shes fine  
DAVESPRITE: she starts feeling too cold she can always unshrink herself  
DAVESPRITE: so hopefully she shouldnt be freezing to death anytime soon  
DAVESPRITE: hopefully she wont forget there was someone else with her when she came here  
DAVESPRITE: man i can almost see her  
DAVESPRITE: being all like  
DAVESPRITE: huh! that sure was cold, wasn't it??  
DAVESPRITE: grabbing some of your nannas hot chocolate  
DAVESPRITE: making herself comfortable  
DAVESPRITE: tucking herself in for a quick nap since everybodys magically disappeared  
DAVESPRITE: curling up in that sort of cute koala way  
DAVESPRITE: and then just before falling asleep a solitary thought passing through her mind  
DAVESPRITE: a single “fuck” just swinging by  
DAVESPRITE: but shed be out cold before even having time to softly whisper “shit” as she drifts off  
DAVESPRITE: and since she sleeps like an awful fuckton of time were gonna have to kill some  
DAVESPRITE: lets get creative john what do you wanna play  
DAVESPRITE: you feeling like some shiritori  
DAVESPRITE: or wheres that line from  
DAVESPRITE: ill even indulge your dumb cage references since its a special circumstance  
DAVESPRITE: hey john  
DAVESPRITE: john you there

Now, it is known that, in poor quality horror movies or creepy-ass fairytales, the shittiest things happen when someone starts going off the tangent. But you guess you must’ve rambled to the fucking end of the tangent, where only a cliff and a “the fuck you think you’re doing here turn the hell around dumbass” sign can be found, because, by the time you get back, John’s head is tilted to the side in a way you don’t like. At all.

His eyes are closed. You have to focus really hard, in the dim darkness of the cave, to see the weak rise and fall of his chest under his slow breaths, and you’re still half convinced you’re hallucinating it just for self-defense. Suddenly, you’re reminded of every bad movie you’ve ever ironically watched.

You shake him by the shoulder, probably more forcefully than you intended to. 

DAVESPRITE: john  
DAVESPRITE: john what the fuck do you think youre doing  
DAVESPRITE: who told you you could sleep you dumbfuck

And there he blinks, the asshole. He blinks like he really wants to personally hand you the award for Most Annoying Person (Sprite) in the world. Space. Few things can beat the crankiness of the sleepy, and don’t you know it.

But, honestly? You don’t think you could give less fucks if you tried. 

JOHN: chill, dave  
JOHN: i'm just...  
JOHN: resting my eyes...  
DAVESPRITE: like fuck you are  
DAVESPRITE: ive seen terrible movies too what do you think  
DAVESPRITE: not to talk about roses wizard fanfics  
DAVESPRITE: i know what happens now  
DAVESPRITE: you drift off you fucking die because for some reason if you fall asleep in the snow youre a goner  
DAVESPRITE: 3 books of asoiaf havent you learned the first thing about dying in the snow  
DAVESPRITE: john  
DAVESPRITE: wake up you shithead  
DAVESPRITE: john youre not remotely black enough for this  
DAVESPRITE: youre like barely brownish  
DAVESPRITE: john  
DAVESPRITE: fuck

No, no, no.

Nope to the nopeth power, and then nope again.

“ _He will do what you say. Unless it happens to be for his own good, then suddenly he’s a tough nut to crack, go figure_ ”. Yeah, no shit. You guess you’d sort of hoped experience would’ve taught him something. Aren’t you one gullible doofus.

There are ways and ways to handle a situation. For this one in particular, the only approach you feel like taking is— oh well, no fucking way. Not this time.

You start slapping him. Albeit being a tiny bit satisfying, it really doesn’t help. Besides, you’re in no shape to feel satisfied. You could swear that, spriteness or not, right now, you’re feeling all the cold there is to feel and then some, in convenient installments of shivers and raw panic.

Think, you useless protoDave, think!

You need something strong.

Something desperate.

Something…

DAVESPRITE: i didnt want to resort to this egbert  
DAVESPRITE: but you leave me no other choice  
DAVESPRITE: ready or not

You slide your hands under his shirt as fast as you can, reaching up to his chest.

No time for a better plan.

You only hope this works. If your memory doesn’t trick you, it pretty much should.

You start a quick countdown. _Three, two, one…_

JOHN: ARGH! 

And exhale.

Jesus, did you miss breathing. 

JOHN: what the hell, dave?!  
DAVESPRITE: i warned you bro  
DAVESPRITE: drift the fuck off again im gonna pinch your nipples bloody do you understand  
JOHN: it hurts!  
DAVESPRITE: damn right it does  
JOHN: what's even the big deal anyway?  
JOHN: it's not like it’s cold enough for me to actually die.  
JOHN: and even if it was  
JOHN: i'd just come back to life.  
JOHN: i'm god tier, remember?  
JOHN: hence the windy outfit.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah but what the fuck do you know  
DAVESPRITE: what if the almighty godclock went ahead and decided your death was just because of how fucking moronic it was  
JOHN: i'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that!  
DAVESPRITE: yeah well you want to risk it you risk it around somebody else  
DAVESPRITE: now come the fuck here and lets do this  
JOHN: what on earth are you talking about now???  
DAVESPRITE: the goddamned hypothermia cliché  
DAVESPRITE: hasnt it become clear enough thats where this all leads  
DAVESPRITE: im telling you  
DAVESPRITE: some higher force is fucking with us  
DAVESPRITE: but since it might keep you from yet another pointless death im all for playing along  
JOHN: dave.  
JOHN: dave, i don't really think it's necessary...  
DAVESPRITE: would you turn off your no homo radar just for one second  
DAVESPRITE: possibly take the damn thing and flip it off the planet since youre there  
JOHN: ok, first of all,  
JOHN: i'm positive there's no such thing.  
JOHN: second,  
JOHN: there’s only so much body heat we can share.  
JOHN: won't you be the one getting colder like that?  
DAVESPRITE: i told you dog  
DAVESPRITE: i cant  
DAVESPRITE: i know im not your first choice dave for cave snuggling  
DAVESPRITE: but now stop complaining for a second and look  
DAVESPRITE: your face is already matching your outfit a bit less

Miraculously enough, John shuts up.

He looks actually somewhat surprised. For the first time in what has been a solid couple of hours, John Egbert actually, truly seems to begin to show some sense. It’s written all over his face he wants to argue, but something must be keeping him from making that mistake. He gulps, gives a slight nod, lets his gaze wander around his feet.

And, for the first time in a very long bunch of seconds, John finally seems to notice your hands are still resting on his hips, irradiating warmth like some kind of nuclear station, if his previous statements hadn’t been another Egbertian exaggeration. And he’d better choke on any problem he might have with that. You’re keeping him alive and that’s final. His personal space issues can go enjoy a full-paid, long vacation in the depths of the Furthest Ring and perhaps stay there.

Yet, he doesn’t voice any. You kind of thought you’d have to drag him along but, yeah, it’s already twice he’s being reasonable today. “Okay”, he says. He starts moving closer; he shifts awkwardly – “what, like this?” “watch the tail” “ah, sorry” – and you shift somehow even more awkwardly – “alright wait lets see if this works” – until you resolve to get your tail out of the way by wrapping it around his torso, and in the end you happen to be kind of hugging. Kind of.

Still, your faces are really too awfully close for comfortable conversation.

JOHN: huh...  
JOHN: i do actually feel warmer now.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah what did i say  
DAVESPRITE: why dont we keep your hands from falling off since were there  
JOHN: are you suggesting we hold hands in a cave?  
JOHN: dave, that’s lame.  
DAVESPRITE: fuck no handholding is for sissies  
DAVESPRITE: you gotta put them under my shirt or something  
DAVESPRITE: like a man  
JOHN: but you're a sprite!  
JOHN: aren't your clothes, like, merged with your essence or something like that?  
DAVESPRITE: ssh dont question the sprite laws  
DAVESPRITE: i can tell you crazier things have happened since im a floaty orange raven  
JOHN: like what?  
DAVESPRITE: thats not the point  
JOHN: so what, are sprite laws like superhero physics?  
DAVESPRITE: swallow down your nerd for a second egbert  
DAVESPRITE: can you do that  
JOHN: this is getting really clichéy, really quickly.  
DAVESPRITE: yeah no shit  
DAVESPRITE: now shut up and get your hands under my clothes 

Alright, perhaps embarrassing the living daylights out of Egbert is actually kind of funny. It’s also helping wear off some of the scare. He’s hesitant like an 8th grade schoolgirl – “i promise ill be gentle” “fuck you, dave” – but he eventually scrambles his way up your chest, careful when his hands pass the bandages around your belly, and the look of relief on his face is almost worth the heart attack.

The thing with John is, he never fucking understands.

JOHN: sweet jesus.  
JOHN: you haven't eaten any flaming meteors by any chance, have you?  
DAVESPRITE: yeah well can you really blame a guy for being curious  
JOHN: must've been crunchy.  
DAVESPRITE: you have no idea

You can feel his shaky breaths grow calmer by the second against your ear. He’s leaning against your temple, his chin resting on your thick feathered collar, occasionally emerging to shoot you pissed off glances whenever you say something with the sole purpose of pissing him off. The air is less tense – almost comfortable now, almost more than okay. 

DAVESPRITE: so i take it youre actually warming up  
JOHN: mh-mh.  
JOHN: got to say, i never took you for such a comfortable guy.  
DAVESPRITE: im gonna go ahead and take that as a compliment  
JOHN: maybe you're actually a pillow.  
JOHN: you do have feathers, after all.  
JOHN: actual pillow dave strider.

He absently fiddles with the feathers from under your shirt, stroking them between his fingertips as he speaks. It sends a curious warmth curling up in the back of your throat. You decide not to investigate it further.

DAVESPRITE: dude you should be glad rose isnt here  
DAVESPRITE: what you just said wouldve been perfect material for an excursus about imperfect syllogisms  
DAVESPRITE: and believe me you dont wanna hear it  
JOHN: haha, i bet.  
JOHN: it'd be nice to have her around, though.  
JOHN: it's been so long since we've last spoken.  
JOHN: other dave too.  
JOHN: i wonder what they're up to.  
DAVESPRITE: that's an easy one  
DAVESPRITE: roses probably stealing trollian books to learn about troll kierkegaards struggles with angst or whatever  
DAVESPRITE: while daves all working on starting some sick fires to the sweetest jams paradox space has ever seen  
DAVESPRITE: 100% beta dave guaranteed  
JOHN: haha, yeah. that totally sounds like them.  
DAVESPRITE: also turning green with jealousy because he doesnt get his own john to pet  
JOHN: oh, shut up.  
DAVESPRITE: no way

A shiver runs through him as his body adjusts to the warmth. You absent-mindedly rub up and down his sides. Alright, maybe not so absent-mindedly. You really want to make your point, though.

DAVESPRITE: whos a good john  
JOHN: dave, i'm not a dog!  
DAVESPRITE: and i believe we should thank the lord up there for it or something  
DAVESPRITE: at least jaspers should  
DAVESPRITE: and youd totally be down for a belly rub right now dont deny it  
JOHN: oh yeah?  
JOHN: is this how you wanna play it, dave?  
DAVESPRITE: you know youre trying to sound intimidating but its just like listening to a puppy yelp against the door  
DAVESPRITE: desperate for the attentions of his master  
JOHN: now you're just asking for it.  
DAVESPRITE: what is it that im asking for here egbert  
JOHN: you're going to regret this, dave.  
JOHN: oh, how you're going to regret the day you asked for...  
JOHN: THIS!

_TICKLE ATTACK_

DAVESPRITE: hahahaha stop  
DAVESPRITE: dude im not even ticklish  
JOHN: of course you aren't.  
JOHN: you're totally laughing for ironic purposes here.  
DAVESPRITE: knock it off egbert  
DAVESPRITE: just  
JOHN: you cannot ask the tickle monster to stop an assault.  
JOHN: the tickle monster will not stop until he can feed on the tears of his victims.  
JOHN: and you've awakened him.  
JOHN: what a foolish mistake that was.  
DAVESPRITE: alright you wanna play it tough

It is likely that taking advantage of having wings to turn the tables might be considered as cheating. But you don’t give a fuck because John is snickering way too much for his own good. Someone’s got to put the kid back in line. Then he will know better than challenge a Strider to a tickle-off.

To his shock, you manage to flip the positions with one swift move so that John’s back is against the cave’s wall. Your turn to smirk. You then proceed to get him served like a guy in Butler Cave.

DAVESPRITE: not so chatty anymore are you john  
DAVESPRITE: whos the tickle monster now  
JOHN: hahahaha  
JOHN: you cheater!  
DAVESPRITE: remember to send me a postcard from butler island  
DAVESPRITE: i heard its shores are lovely this time of the year  
JOHN: this isn't over!

John has clearly had more than a few tickle-off in his life, though, and isn't going to throw the towel so easily. As you try to pin his wrists to the wall, he concentrates all his strengths in one last, desperate attack to the neck. He knows what he's doing. He knows what the stakes are. Kid ain’t one to screw around with.

DAVESPRITE: hahaha you asshole  
JOHN: ssh, you shouldn’t waste precious air.  
DAVESPRITE: fuck you  
DAVESPRITE: just  
DAVESPRITE: fuck you sideways on a stalagmite  
DAVESPRITE: hahahaha  
DAVESPRITE: haha _caw_

_…_

_Oh shit_

You hope John didn’t get that.

You really hope John didn’t get that.

JOHN: …  
JOHN: wait. what?

_Fuck he got that_

DAVESPRITE: what  
JOHN: just now.  
JOHN: you made… a sound.  
DAVESPRITE: no dude what sound  
DAVESPRITE: your ears must be playing tricks i didnt make no _caw_  
DAVESPRITE: _caw_  
DAVESPRITE: christ

Let this be known: John Egbert is a smartass. And, being the smartass he is, he just has to poke around the clock to see what makes it tick. Caw. Whatever. Point being: he scratches you lightly between the ruffled feathers of your collar, just once, but that’s enough for another low pitched caw to escape your throat. It only takes a couple more rubs for the caws to turn into low, contented purrs and, to your undying humiliation, you can’t help but lean into the touch like the biggest shameless cat in the history of Paradox Space.

Which, of course, doesn’t fail to make him smile like an idiot.

JOHN: hehehe.  
JOHN: i didn't know you could purr, dave.  
DAVESPRITE: shut up  
DAVESPRITE: im not  
JOHN: yeah, right.  
JOHN: who's a good boy now?  
DAVESPRITE: its not me its the bird  
JOHN: oh, right! sorry.  
JOHN: who's a good BIRD now?  
DAVESPRITE: stfu egbert  
DAVESPRITE: just

God, is he grinning. He’s grinning to such lengths he’d give the Joker an inferiority complex with no equals without a second. Your feathers – your traitorous, infamous feathers – are all ruffled all the way up your good wing now, too, from base to tips, which John seems to take as an invitation to stroke further up. Seriously, he looks like it’s fucking April 1st and he’s finally beaten his old man in the legendary Egbertian Annual Prank-Off or whatever crazy shit it is they did. His face is a freaking Christmas tree, so lit up it almost hurts to look at him for too long. He plays with your primaries like they’re loose threads of a safety blanket. (Not that you’d know about safety blankets. Haha. Where’d you even get the idea, you wonder).

You can’t help but think, though… that it’s nice. To see him smile like that. It reminds you of the old times: of the afternoons spent liveblogging Ghostbusters marathons or making fun of ridiculous comics or simply chatting; afternoons that would soon turn to evenings and, before either of you could know it, it would be 2AM without any of you to have poked at your homework, or glanced at your pillows, even though your eyes would be red and puffy – even though your brains would _throb_ , begging for mercy. And you _know_ you have no means of comparison – you never actually _met,_ – yet the feeling is there nonetheless, the very same, just as real, itching under your palms, brushing the tips of your fingers.

It reminds you of those times more than you’d care to remember. You find yourself longing for them, with a strange, bitter aftertaste that’s become part of you just as much as your wings now. They’re the only times you have any right to long for, after all.

JOHN: dave?

It’s funny that he still calls you “Dave”. Funny, yes, and all but funny at once. You might have been him once, but that was a long time ago. Dave – actual Dave, alpha Dave, _his_ Dave – has lived a whole other life you never got the chance to. You thought you’d be okay, being rebound Dave, being Davesprite, helping out your friends every once in a while in ways only you could. You thought you’d be perhaps a little less than okay, but that was fine, too. It was the only leap worth making, and it was truly almost alright.

JOHN: are you okay?

But then John does this. One moment he’s grumpy, edgy, exactly as he should be when around you – and the other he’s _this_. This goofy, dorky 16-year-old version of the 13-year-old kid from the other side of the continent that you used to spend entire days with. All of a sudden, for just the tiniest bit of time, he’s John again – not other Dave’s John, _your_ John, almost as if you’re still the Dave he’s playing this game with.

Even though you’re not. No amount of John-ness can ever change that, but _this_ – this smiling and teasing and joking, this is as close as it gets, and it makes you worry just _how_ close that is.

The thing with John is, he never fucking _understands_.

JOHN: jeez, i'm sorry. i should've known your wing would still hurt.

You didn’t notice his hand over your injured wing. Only now you realise he’s been carefully tracing his fingertips along the ragged edges where Jack’s sword had sliced. After all, the touch had been very light, almost reverent.

DAVESPRITE: what  
DAVESPRITE: no dude dont worry  
DAVESPRITE: i was just sort of spacing out  
JOHN: oh. okay.  
JOHN: you sure everything's alright?

It’s not.

DAVESPRITE: yeah dont worry

It’s less alright with each second that passes.

DAVESPRITE: all is cool

Your hand hasn’t let go of John’s wrist yet, you still haven’t realised how tight you’ve been holding it; John doesn’t say a thing. He just looks up at you with big, worried eyes just as bad at concealing concern as John is at keeping secrets. And he still forces a smile on the corners of his lips, because John was always nice in ways you could never master, and it’s less and less alright by the _instant._

JOHN: hey.  
JOHN: i'm sorry about earlier.  
JOHN: i've been a total jackass.  
DAVESPRITE: man you still thinking about that  
JOHN: yeah, well, i mean.  
JOHN: you were trying to help me.  
JOHN: i guess it's just another time you've saved my life, or close to it at least.  
JOHN: so, thank you.  
DAVESPRITE: now youre just getting sappy  
DAVESPRITE: its okay seriously  
DAVESPRITE: you be the grumpy doofus who gets in trouble all the time  
DAVESPRITE: i be the insufferable tease who gets your ass to safety  
JOHN: still...  
DAVESPRITE: i knew what i was signing in for y'know  
DAVESPRITE: its not like youve gone dumb overnight ive known from the beginning it wasnt gonna be an easy job  
DAVESPRITE: i just didnt think anyone else would do it  
JOHN: now you're just setting fire to my olive branch.  
DAVESPRITE: thats what branches are fucking for havent you ever been a boy scout  
DAVESPRITE: have you never lit a fire in the middle of the woods at night  
DAVESPRITE: mentally thanking the branches for existing and being so intrinsically flammable  
JOHN: dave, i know for sure you've never been a boy scout.  
DAVESPRITE: were talking about your lack of outside experience egbert not mine  
JOHN: alright then.  
JOHN: i admit i can, sometimes,  
JOHN: some very rare times,  
JOHN: when popes die and meteor showers happen,  
JOHN: (which lately has been more often than ever but we'll gracefully gloss over that),  
JOHN: be an idiot.  
JOHN: therefore, let me thank you for standing by your touchy birthday letter and bailing me out every time.  
JOHN: and don’t even try to escape the feels of the moment with some ironic remark.  
JOHN: i mean it.

It’s less and less alright until it simply isn’t anymore.

John smiles. It’s a smile so warm you think all the ice in the cave probably just melted. He gives you another friendly scratch amongst the collar’s feathers, to close the subject or merely because he feels like it.

The thing with John is, he _never fucking understands_.

If he’s planning to say anything else, you don’t give him the chance to.

You press your lips onto his so fast you doubt John’s going to process the information very quickly. And you press them hard. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough not to leave room for speech. You move your mouth against his in a kiss that’s hungrier, more urgent, more desperate than you’d have ever imagined it would be, and it’s only now that you instinctively tighten your grip on John’s wrist that you realise just how hard you’ve been squeezing. You loosen it immediately, a shaky breath escaping your lips and John is still, perfectly still under your assault, just as you thought he’d be. You can’t say if he’s tried to say anything at all but you could bet his eyes are wide open and blinking in sheer confusion. His grip on your wing has tightened slightly too. He could push you away any second now.

But it’s when you feel John’s lips part just barely under yours that comes your turn to panic.

You pull back faster than lightning.

John’s face is so flushed you’d doubt he’d ever have any problems with cold again, if only you were in any shape to think. You’re both panting heavily, John’s eyes the diametric opposite of wide: hooded, blown. If they could take shape, though, question marks wouldn’t cut it. You’d think it’s the first time ever you’ve actually managed to make Egbert utterly shut up – again, that is, if your current mood weren’t one colossal block of alarm dropped gracelessly upon your chest.

The ways John looks right now could fill in a book, but what’s making your heart stop is the ways he _doesn’t_ look.

“Dave…”

“ _Guys!_ ”

A girl’s voice interrupts him. God, have you ever been more glad to hear that voice.

“ _Guys, where are you?! I’m so sorry!_ ”

Muffled, in the distance, but closer by the second.

You force yourself to look John in the eye, just the time to gesture what’s supposed to mean ‘I’m-going-to-get-her-hang-on’.

John, hesitantly, nods.

_And if I only could_   
_Make a deal with God_   
_And get him to swap our places,_   
_Be running up that road,_   
_Be running up that hill,_   
_Be running up that building_   
**{Running Up That Hill - Placebo}**


End file.
